


Mate

by RoryDysfunction



Series: Let Your Freak Flag Fly - Dys' Exo Adventures [5]
Category: The Predator (2018)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Chubby Reader, F/M, Fluff, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Yautja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryDysfunction/pseuds/RoryDysfunction
Summary: The reader and her Yautja mate celebrate a successful hunt.
Relationships: Yautja (Predator)/Reader
Series: Let Your Freak Flag Fly - Dys' Exo Adventures [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817878
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	Mate

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested on my Kofi by a tumblr follower. You can request works on my Kofi: MostlyDysfunction.

When you had spent time thinking about your future when you were little, this was not what you had pictured at all. Living on an alien planet with an alien mate, lightyears away from Earth with no prospect of ever going back, of ever seeing anyone you knew, ever again. It wasn’t entirely a bad thing. But it was a lot to take in at first. 

Eventually, you grew to adjust. This was your family now. This...clan of alien creatures, your mate. They were your home now. 

Life is different now, completely unlike what your life had been on Earth. In some ways, you had gone backward. Yautja were hunter/gatherers. It was ingrained in their entire culture. But in so many ways they were far more advanced than humans would ever be, in your lifetime at least. Just the fact they had gotten you from Earth to their planet was a sign they were far from inferior. 

Their standards of looks were different too. There was nothing humanoid about them, besides the fact they were bipedal and had two arms. Their biology was something else, and their standards were something else too. 

You’re reminded of this as you stand in front of the mirror, unable to look past the way the Yautja clothing suctions too much. Yautja were tall and all rippling muscles. You were soft. Curvy. That’s what your friends had said. Chubby. That’s what everyone else said. 

Despite this, your mate never showed he cared. He lifted you with ease, carried you with one arm like you weighed nothing. Compared to him that was true. You had felt the heft of him after mating one night. He had let himself press against you, not fully out of fear of crushing you, but he had let himself slip, so caught up in the sensation he lost his control and settled against you for a moment. It wasn’t painful, but you knew if he had truly let himself fall against you, it would have crushed you to death. 

He could crush you to death with his hands, but he would never. Yautja mating rituals, their expressions of love and affection, were different than you were used to. You had nearly had a heart attack when you woke one morning and found a pile of skulls in your bedroom. Each one had been cleaned and polished and cared for delicately. The language barrier had been thicker then, and it had taken him much time to explain exactly what he wanted, and what his gifts meant. 

Now it wasn’t unusual for him to bring home a skull. Or several. They adorned a wall of your home, a proud display of your hunter’s skills. The newest addition is smooth in your hands, your fingers long adjusted to the feel of bone. Some of the skulls were larger than you were, others small compared to what you gauged as normal-sized. You knew what this skull was, what it represented. You place it next to the others of its kind, the elongated, phallic-looking cranium a normal sight for you now. 

You take a few steps back until a brick wall of heat stops your movements. You admire the newest addition to the collection, a soft trill vibrating through your back. You tilt your head back, finding his masked face looking down at you and not at the wall. The clicking trill deepens, rough hands coming up to trace over the skin of your arms. He’s stripped of half his armor already, loincloth and breastplate still in place for now. 

One would think he would be tired after a hunt, and they wouldn’t be wrong. But you knew the adrenaline, or the Yautja equivalent of adrenaline, running through his veins would take a while to calm. The pride he felt from his kill, the thrill of the successful hunt wouldn’t wear off for a few hours. At least, on his own, they wouldn’t. 

His hands drag down to your waist, spinning you around before lifting you into his arms. You're now face to face with him, your skilled fingers removing his mask, letting it drop to the floor. You had done this enough times you could do it with your eyes closed. His mandibles click together as they’re exposed, yellow eyes boring into yours. He holds you securely, never glancing away as he carries you into the bedroom. You can feel yourself already getting wet in anticipation, and you know he can smell it. 

He kneels on the pile of furs, depositing you gently on your back. His mandibles flare as the scents the air, forked tongue peeking out from behind his teeth. His hands are quick to remove the rest of his coverings, kneeling bare over you, unashamed. His hands reach for your coverings next, ripping them down the middle. 

“Hey!” You whine, his hands pausing long enough for him to let out a short growl, before ripping them the rest of the way. He would buy you a new one. 

You always hate this part. No matter how much you want to believe he doesn’t care, how much you want to believe the societal differences, you can’t help but feel subconsciously aware of how different you look compared to him. Lumps and bumps and curves. 

But his hands beat you to your own body before you can cover yourself up. His hands go straight to your breasts, large enough to cover their expanse completely. You let yourself relax, a quiet moan leaving your lips as he squeezes your breasts. A sharp nail finds your nipple, flicking against it. Your core clenches in response, the scent of your arousal thick in the air. You know it has to be driving him crazy, but he also knew you needed to be well prepared before he tried to enter you. He had learned that the hard way. 

He’s fully erect, as thick and long as your forearm. The tip is flared out, small ribs running from head to base. Your body remembers the hours of pleasure he had drawn from you in your time being mated, your pussy clenching in anticipation. 

His hands leave your breasts, sliding down your stomach, feeling the softness of your body. You swallow away the uncomfortable feelings rising in your chest as he feels along the rolls you spent far too much time staring at some days. He purrs low, sensing your confliction, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He slips a pillow under them, lifting you slightly. You let your legs relax, baring yourself to him. He ignores the bumps of your stretch marks. He had let you feel his own scars when you had apologized to him for not having smooth skin. You felt silly now, having felt his scars and the roughness of his own reptilian-like skin. 

Your hips jump as he presses a rough finger against your clit. You’re already wet, practically dripping for him, but he takes his time, working you up slowly. You thought he was secretly a masochist, enjoying watching you squirm and writhe in pleasure. He presses a finger into you, stretching you in preparation. You can’t help but squeeze around the thick digit, eliciting a deep growl from his chest. He wants nothing more but to take you right here, right now, but he knows better. 

He presses a second finger into you, and then a third, stretching you out fully until you’re ready for him. You’re a moaning mess, the squelch of his fingers thrusting in and out of you giving away how much you wanted him. His own tip is leaking a green-colored lubricant, swollen and practically pulsing in time with your own walls around his fingers. He won’t let you cum though. Not yet. 

He pulls his fingers from inside you with a pop, bringing them to his face and licking them clean. You let out a whimper at the sight of him tasting you, a teasing look in his dark eyes. His hand drops from his mouth, wrapping around his length. You shift your hips slightly, preparing yourself for him. You knew no matter how much he prepared you, it was still a stretch. 

He’s gentle, holding himself back as he presses into you slowly. His tip is a stretch, the bulbous knot at the top always the roughest part. He braces himself over you, quiet trills leaving his chest to calm you as he presses into you as much as he can. He pauses once he hits your cervix, eyes focused on your face as he lets you adjust. You breathe deeply, letting yourself relax around him before you squeeze him, shifting slightly to let him know you’re ready. 

He braces himself with one hand, the other falling on your hip as he begins to move, slowly dragging his hips back and forth. You clutch onto his arms, holding on as he picks up speed, thrusting into you as fast as he dares. Low growls leave his chest as he fucks into you, muscles flexing as he holds himself above you, but you want him closer. 

You tangle a hand in his locks, pulling him down. He lets out a growl, hips stuttering as your hands wrap in his delicate hair. You wrap your legs around his hips, or as far as you can get them, bringing him closer. You press him against you, holding him against your curves as he moves, your moans mixing with his growls. 

“Fuck, Adtui, I’m close.” You breathe, tugging on a lock to encourage him. 

Your nails dig into his back, never enough to cause him pain, his hide too thick to pierce. He knows the sensation means you’re close, shifting his hips slightly to hit that spot inside you he knows will have you tumbling over the edge. 

It doesn’t take long, your walls squeezing around him like a vice as he rips an orgasm from you. You’re not sure what language you’re speaking as you practically see stars, every nerve ending on fire as you cum around him. He keeps moving, the base of his cock swelling slightly, signaling the nearness of his own orgasm. He sits up, fingers finding your clit, prolonging your orgasm before his head falls back, a loud, feral roar leaving him. He’s hot as he spurts into you, filling you with so much seed some of it starts to drip out around him. 

He stills, chest heaving as he breathes, muscles twitching. Your own legs are shaking still, spasming around him as he shifts slightly, wrapping an arm around your back before rolling over. You’re still connected, his length still hard inside you. He doesn’t move, knowing you need a moment to collect yourself before you can continue. Your stamina was good, but you weren’t Yautja.

Eventually, you begin to come back, hips grinding against him. The roughness of his skin is heavenly against your clit, propping yourself up on your elbows against his chest as you move your hips. He’s purring, a constant sound vibrating against your hands. He’s watching you, hands twitching at his sides, wanting to touch you but he holds himself back. 

You push yourself up, sinking down on his length. You can feel every ridge and bump of his cock in your sensitive state, hands bracing yourself on his stomach as you begin to move your hips. You know this is a vulnerable position for him. It wasn’t something he would normally give easily. Yautja mating was about dominance. You had learned that quickly. So you had to teach him about human sex and it had surprised you when he’d willingly laid on his back, letting you take control the first time. It was something he did regularly, letting you control the mating. Secretly you thought he did it because he liked the way your ass jiggled when you moved. 

Confirming that thought, his hands move up the expanse of your thighs, squeezing them before they move around to your ass. His eyes are dark as you stare into them, letting him assist you in moving up and down on his cock. His head presses against your spot over and over in this position, your own fingers going to your clit this time, pleasuring yourself over him. His mandibles click as he watches, eyes tracing your body, focusing on your breasts. His hands leave your ass, cupping your breasts in his hands. He tweaks your nipples in the way he knows you like, your pussy clenching around him letting him know he was right. 

It doesn’t take long until you’re cumming again, hips faltering as you come undone around him for a second time. He’s quick to move, maneuvering you easily onto all fours. His hands grip your hips, not tight enough to bruise but enough to hold on as he begins thrusting into you hard. You can do nothing but hold on, hands gripping the furs of his bed as he chases his own release, claws tracing the soft skin of your back. 

Your third orgasm catches you by surprise, a choked sound leaving your lips as you tip over the edge, dragging him with you. A roar leaves him again, shaking you to your core as he cums inside you a second time. You’re going to be a mess by the time he finishes but you don’t care. You know you’re far from done, his cock still hard inside you as he fills you with his cum. 

This was going to be a long night, but you weren’t going to complain. 


End file.
